


Poutini's Advent Calendar 2020

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Edging, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Married!sex, Mirror Sex, Morning Sex, Nipple Play, Office Kink, Patient David Rose, Patrick googles sex things, Patrick looks super hot in his smudged Cabaret make up, Patrick makes a purchase, Prostate Play, Roleplay, Sex Swing, Sharing Fantasies, Smut, Spooning Sex, Teasing, Tender Hand Jobs, Tenderness, Trail fuck, Watching Porn Together, Will write porn for poutine, dreams do come true, mild restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 13,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: Countdown to December 25th with me.One chapter per day.Chronological from 4.01, but largely disconnected from each other.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 425
Kudos: 409





	1. Twenty-four

“I just need you to say _nice_ person.”

“You’re a _good_ person, David.” 

“Mmmk, that’s not nice.” 

Patrick leans in and captures David’s lips once again. This time, David’s arms wrap over his shoulders and pull him close. His body flush against David’s, he snakes his arm around David’s waist, one palm sliding up underneath David’s sweatshirt. 

Patrick feels David’s tongue tease at the bow of his upper lip, and he parts his lips enough to let it slide in, seeking to tangle with his own tongue. The swipe of David’s tongue across the margin of his mouth causes a swoop low in his stomach. He pulls David closer, close enough that he can feel David’s erection pressing against his hip, and - 

“ _God, David,_ ” he breathes against David’s neck, taking a moment to try and unscramble his brains.

He feels David’s happy hum against his lips, as he presses a kiss to the soft skin at the hinge of his jaw, the faint scent of David’s cologne overwhelming him. 

“You’re making this so hard,” he whispers as he drops his forehead to David’s shoulder. 

David presses his hips forward with a brief exaggerated grind against Patrick’s body before he takes a step back. “Oh, I _know_ ,” he replies with a gleam in his eyes. 


	2. Twenty-three

David’s fingers pause at the third button from the top of Patrick’s shirt. “Is this ok?” he asks, biting his bottom lip shyly. 

Patrick feels like he’s going to combust, his skin flushed and hot, his pilot light of desire finally lit, working to make up for years of making do and making believe. He nods, and David’s fingers make quick work of the remaining buttons. His hands slip beneath the fabric, and soothe over Patrick’s skin, sliding the shirt over Patrick’s shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. 

Patrick closes his eyes, wishing to commit every moment to memory. David’s hands, hot to the touch, but cool where the metal of his rings brush against Patrick’s arms. The way David’s grip settles on his biceps, just firm enough, imploring Patrick to  _ stay _ . How David inhales slowly as he trails up Patrick’s collarbone, his breath causing goosebumps and a shiver down Patrick’s spine. 

His eyes fly open when David’s thumb and forefinger find a nipple and give it a little squeeze. 

“Nnnngghhhh,  _ David _ ,” he moans, a surge of electricity passing through his pelvis. 

David rolls the now hardened peak between his fingers. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice a whisper against the soft patch behind Patrick’s ear. 

Patrick can feel the skin around the erect nipple pulled taut, and the other side is firming up in solidarity. “Yes,” he hisses. “ _ Oh my god. _ ”


	3. Twenty-two

Patrick is hunched over the sales counter, growing increasingly frustrated with the debit terminal that refuses to accept the new roll of printer tape, when he feels David’s fingertips dance across his shoulders from behind. David’s soft lips press against the nape of his neck. “What’s wrong, honey?”

Much of the tension in Patrick’s body immediately dissipates. “Just...this stupid printer. Again.”

“Mmmmm. Let me try.”

Patrick moves aside, and David uses his deft fingers to feed the printer tape through the rollers and out the serrated cut in the cover. “There.”

David turns back to face Patrick, and as if magnetized, as if it’s where they belong, his arms drape themselves around Patrick’s neck. Equally as instinctively, Patrick’s arms wrap around David’s waist, and their lips draw close, pressing in a soft kiss. 

“It wasn’t just the printer, was it?” David asks softly, carefully.

Patrick sighs. How David can read him so well after just a few months, when Rachel was barely Patrick-literate after over a decade, is a mystery he can’t decode. He pitches forward into David’s chest. “Mmmmfffno.”

“Does this have anything to do with the tabs you left open on the laptop?” 

Patrick’s head jerks up.  _ Shit _ . He thought he closed those. Let’s be real, he spent the better part of a decade practicing the art of stealth browsing on a shared computer, he...he wouldn’t have slipped now, would he?

David’s hand cards through the short hair at the back of Patrick’s head. “It’s okay, honey. But why didn’t you just ask me?”

Patrick buries his face in David’s sweater again. “S’embarrassing,” he murmurs, barely intelligible against the knitwear. 

David squeezes him close. “Mmmmmk, well, to answer your first question, no, it  _ shouldn’t _ hurt, not if I’m doing it right and you’re communicating with me. And to your second,  _ fuck yes _ ,  _ that’s _ a thing, and I can’t wait to show you.”


	4. Twenty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was the _thing_ that Patrick had googled and David couldn’t wait to show him?
> 
> Something that more than doubles the cumulative number of words in this fic, that’s what.

David is settled between Patrick’s bent legs, lube bottle in one hand, the other hand caressing the outside of Patrick’s thigh. He leans in and presses a light kiss to the scar on Patrick’s knee. 

“So,” David says softly, “no expectations.” He pinches Patrick’s inner thigh sharply. “I mean it.”

Patrick’s confident nod and small laugh belie the racing beat of his heart. 

The lube on David’s finger is cool against Patrick’s skin. He traces down Patrick’s perineum, teasing circles over his hole and then back up, applying pressure under his balls with one hand, and stroking him with the other. 

David clears his throat. “Um, so it’s kind of there? And this - “

David emphasizes where he’s pushing against Patrick’s perineum, and  _ oh _ , that’s a little different.

“ - this can feel really good, uh, too. But - “

He releases the pressure, and Patrick feels David’s fingers walk lower.

“But this...is why we’re here.”

And with that, Patrick feels David slide two lubed fingers inside to the first knuckle. He takes a deep breath, willing his body to relax, and David’s fingers sink easily all the way in. 

They’ve done this part before. Patrick was pretty sure he’d come so hard, he’d pulled some intercostals the first time David sucked him off while fingering him. 

David keeps stroking Patrick’s cock as he lazily works his fingers in and out. Patrick wills himself to enjoy the moment and not over-analyze every sensation in his body, but it’s proving to be very difficult, and he’s starting to spiral, when David’s fingers zero in on their target.

_ There _ , David whispers, as he gently presses on the walnut-size gland.

It makes Patrick feel like...well, just kind of like he has to pee. But behind that is an oddly pleasant sensation that he’s not sure he can describe, and before he can try, David’s back to fucking in and out, deliberately avoiding Patrick’s prostate. He stops stroking Patrick’s cock, slows his fingers, pulling his hand back, resting just the pads of his fingertips on Patrick’s body. 

“How did that feel?”

Patrick blushes. “Uh, just kind of like I had to pee?”

David bits his lower lip, and nods. “Normal.”

Patrick feels a smidge of relief. “So what now?”

“Well, that’s where it gets personal? Everyone is different - and not everyone finds it’s a feeling they want to chase? Just let go, and see where your body wants to go.”

Patrick takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tries to settle back into the bed. 

David adds more lube and slips his fingers back inside Patrick, this time wasting no time at all in finding Patrick’s prostate. The urge to pee is back, and Patrick’s not sure, not convinced this is  _ a thing _ for him. But he’s not one to give up quite so easily, so he experimentally clenches against David’s fingers.  _ Oh _ , that’s... _ interesting _ . He rocks back and forth against David’s hand, and it changes the angle and pressure inside, and  _ oh _ , there’s  _ that _ , too. He combines the two, a clench, and a tilt of his pelvis, and a wave of pleasure ripples up his body, seemingly starting all the way down in his toes. 

He opens his eyes. David is watching him intently, and he gives Patrick a small, fond smile when their eyes meet. 

Patrick can’t keep his eyes open as he chases these new sensations in his body. He tries to concentrate on the clench of his muscles and small shifts in position, as David alternates delicate swipes over his prostate with more direct pressure. 

It’s  _ a lot _ , but he’s still not entirely sure  _ what exactly _ is going on, and the unknown makes him nervous. The waves of pleasure are coming faster now, like high tide in high winds, and when David finally reaches out and wraps a hand around his cock, his body tenses in anticipation of orgasm. 

_ Relax _ , David whispers, and Patrick wills his body to release the tension. 

He feels David press tender kisses against the sensitive crease of his thigh.  _ Let go _ , he murmurs against Patrick’s pale skin, and Patrick melts back into the bed, consciously keeping his body loose as he resumes rocking back against David’s hand. 

_ Let go _ , David implores him again.  _ Just let go _ .

The pressure against his prostate is gone, but David is now stroking him harder, faster, his fingers just exploring with no set destination, and the coil in Patrick’s abdomen is wounding tighter and tighter and -

The moment he starts coming, David’s fingers stop moving in favour of applying firm pressure against Patrick’s prostate. He manages to keep the pressure in place even as Patrick’s hips buck, his body seizing as he comes, and comes, and comes, and he’s seeing stars, and fireworks, and he can’t even breathe, he might even die, but  _ what a way to go  _ and then he’s floating, floating back down like a maple seed in the fall, twirling in the wind down to the ground.

“There he is,” David says, his voice full of tenderness, when Patrick finally opens one eye, looking thoroughly debauched, exhausted, and happy. 


	5. Twenty

The parcel arrives on a Thursday. As promised, the packaging is inconspicuous, bearing no identifying marks or descriptors on the customs label. Patrick feels a little rush of adrenaline when he sees it on the counter, and it takes every ounce of patience he has to chat with Ray, rather than running upstairs, ripping open the box, and shucking his pants. 

As is, he’s only half-listening to Ray, so he doesn’t really even notice that Ray has put on his coat and shoes and is heading out the door, until the jangle of keys startles him back to full awareness. 

“...so I’ll be back around midnight. I’ll try not to wake you!”

And with that, Patrick is alone. 

He wastes no time, snatching the box off the counter, opening it as he takes the stairs two at a time. He checks to make sure Ray’s car is gone before he strips down, grabs the small tube of lube out of his nightstand, and heads to the bathroom, newly acquired dildo in hand.

It’s exactly as he hoped.  _ Slim Line _ , the packaging promised. Not too thick, not too long, with a suction cup for  _ solo  _ play. 

Patrick soaps up the toy, enjoying the way it feels in his hand as he strokes the suds over the ridges. He rinses it off, and steps into the shower. 

It takes a couple tries to find the right height, the final  _ shwack! _ of the suction cup against the subway tile a satisfying sound. 

Patrick’s halfway hard already, and a few strokes have him aching. With hands shaking in anticipation, he opens the lube and pours a generous amount on the dildo. One hand on his cock, the other at the base of the dildo, he bends over and slowly backs up.

The first catch of the dildo on Patrick’s rim makes him gasp. He’s in no rush, so he teases just the tip in and out, relishing the stimulation of the nerve-ending rich tissue. He imagines it’s David. David’s fingers, dancing along his rim, one or two dipping inside, tantalizingly shallow. His tongue, maybe. When his mind shifts to imagining David’s dick pressing up against his entrance, Patrick slowly slides back until he feels the cold tile against his skin. The dildo, no wider than two of David’s fingers, enough to feel full, without much stretch, or needing prep, feels amazing, and he can’t help but let out a groan. 

Patrick works himself backwards and forwards, fucking himself with the dildo, while he hand strokes his cock. It’s difficult to coordinate with his body wanting to chase two different sensations at the same time. For a moment, he lets go of his erection, freeing a hand to brace against the edge of the tub, and losing himself in the fantasy of David taking him from behind. He experiments with angles, knowing David would find every spot, every crook, every way to take Patrick apart. 

The need to come overwhelms Patrick, and he wraps a hot hand around his cock again, making the short, rapid strokes he likes as his orgasm nears. He keeps a rhythm with the dildo, only slowing when the contractions overtake him, and he spills all over his fist and onto the floor of the tub. Even then, Patrick imagines David fucking him slowly as his orgasm ebbs and flows through his body, but it does become too much and he takes a step forward and stands, letting the dildo slip from his hole. He immediately mourns its absence, and the refractory period of his youth that he clearly never got to truly take advantage of. 


	6. Nineteen

“Tell me again.” Patrick’s voice is low and gravelly.

David clears his throat. “Well, sometimes, um, I think about standing here, behind the counter and - “

Patrick crosses the room, flips the sign to CLOSED, and locks the door. 

“ - and you, you’re - “

Patrick flicks the light switch on the wall by the cash register, plunging the store into darkness, and moves towards his boyfriend. 

“ - you’re on your knees. Here. For me.” 

Patrick lowers himself slowly, unzipping David’s mercifully uncomplicated jeans, and drawing them down to the floor as he positions himself out of view. 

“Like this?” he asks, his lips already brushing against David’s straining erection. 

“Mmmhmm, yes, yep. Just like tha -  _ oh my god _ .”


	7. Eighteen

On a shaky exhale, Patrick’s body relaxes, and he sinks down on David’s cock until their pelvises are flush against each other. It’s... _ a lot _ . Patrick stills, focusing on his breathing. He closes his eyes and tips his head back.

“Okay?” David asks, his voice soft with concern, his warm hands soothing over Patrick’s thighs.

Patrick nods, opens his eyes, and brings his gaze back down to meet David. 

He rolls his hips experimentally. He can feel David  _ everywhere _ . Nothing they had done with fingers, or toys, compares to the heat of David’s hot and wanting cock inside him. Feeling David’s length press against every nerve ending inside him makes Patrick groan with want, with satisfaction, with a desire to take him  _ deeper _ . 

Patrick lifts himself slightly, feeling David’s length slide almost all the way out, the tip teasing along his sensitive rim. With his hands braced on David’s shoulders, he lowers himself back down, and he can’t help but let out a groan. 

Patrick tips forward when David bends his knees and plants his feet on the bed. He takes the opportunity to capture David’s lips in a bruising kiss, that only breaks when David thrusts up into him, knocking against his prostate, and forcing a grunt out of Patrick’s mouth. 

Patrick feels David’s grip tighten on his thighs as he continues to thrust as deep and steady. Patrick braces one hand on the bed next to David’s head and wraps the other around his own throbbing erection. It’s hard to chase two sensations at once - the way David is filling him, lighting him up inside, brushing against his prostate, and Patrick’s own hand pulling up and over the head of his cock, his orgasm drawing nearer and nearer. 

They come within moments of each other - Patrick’s orgasm causing every muscle in his body to spasm, to clench, and shudder, the pressure of which being quite possibly what throws David over the edge. 

Before Patrick dismounts off David, before David’s softening and over-sensitive cock is sliding out of him, Patrick knows this is a feeling he’ll crave, and he can’t wait to do it again.


	8. Seventeen

When Patrick finally lines himself up and presses into David, he thinks for a fleeting moment that it feels like coming home. But it only takes a few thrusts before the feeling shifts, and something isn’t right. He places what he hopes is a grounding hand on the small of David’s back and pulls out slowly. 

“Honey?” David asks, some anxiety from their week apart seeping into his voice.

“I need - “ Patrick starts, but his voice cracks. “Can - Can you just turn over?”

David maneuvers himself until he’s on his back, his feet flat on the bed. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes ask the question for him.

Patrick runs his hands up the outside of David’s legs. He leans forward and presses a kiss to his left knee. “I need to see you. I need to know you’re here.  _ We’re  _ here.” His voice wobbles a bit, and there’s a sheen in his eyes. 

“Oh, honey,” David murmurs, reaching up to pull Patrick down into a soft kiss. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

One hand holds the back of Patrick’s head, while the other guides Patrick’s cock back where it belongs. As Patrick slides back into David, their eyes locked, their lips seeking each other out, he amends his previous assessment.  _ This _ is coming home. 


	9. Sixteen

Horny goatweed.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, apparently some herder noticed an increase in his goats’, uh,  _ libido _ , when they ate it.”

“And why are we stocking it?”

“Singles’ Week, Patrick.”

“Ah, right, right. Ok.”

…

“Do you want to test it?”

“David. I’m  _ literally _ horny  _ all the time _ because of you. I don’t think you’ll want to close the store down when I’m physically incapable of not bending you over the tabl - David!”

“What?”

“Put that back on the shelf!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it’s really a thing, and yes, I totally recommend lube with added horny goateed, and no, I haven’t been paid to say that, and yes, I’d accept a sponsorship on a go forward basis.


	10. Fifteen

“Okay, so what was this about ‘bending me over the table’?”

Patrick stops sweeping. He immediately goes pink, from the tips of his ears down the skin that dips below the vee of his sweater. “Ummmm…”

“Like this?”

David braces his hands on the centre table, jutting his ass out behind him, and Patrick can’t help but rake his eyes up and down the long line of David’s lower body, the curve of his ass, and the arch of his back. It reminds Patrick of how David looks when he gets fucked from behind, and unsurprisingly, the pose causes Patrick to get hard immediately. 

He suddenly feels parched. His hands itch with the desire to close the distance between them, ruck David’s sweater up over his head, yank his complicated pants to his ankles, and bury his face between David’s cheeks. 

But it’s 5:15 pm. There’s still 45 minutes til close.

So he remains rooted in place, gripping the broom handle with white knuckles. “Yep,” Patrick manages to choke out, his voice cracking. “That’s pretty much it.”

David laughs as he shimmies back to standing. “So unprofessional, Patrick!” he clucks as he sashays to the backroom, leaving Patrick to contend with one hell of an erection, and a floor still to sweep.


	11. Fourteen

“David.”

“ _ David _ .”

David snaps to attention. He’d been so caught up in the task of applying labels to product that he hadn’t noticed Patrick open the curtain, enter the backroom, and crowd up behind him, until Patrick repeated his name in a low, heated, voice.

He tries to turn around, but Patrick places one hand on his hip, the other mid-back, and gently directs David to replicate his earlier pose. The firmness with which Patrick moves him into place and holds him there sends a shiver up David’s spine. 

David feels Patrick’s hot breath against the shell of his ear. “David,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss behind David’s ear. He nips gently at the lobe of David’s ear. “Can I undress you?” Patrick’s hand draws up in the inside of David’s clothed thigh. 

David can’t nod fast enough, and Patrick’s warm hand dips inside the waistband of his pants, deftly sliding them down to the floor. 

David hears the  _ snickt _ of the lube bottle moments before Patrick’s slick fingers slide back up the crack of his ass, his thumb catching on David’s sensitive rim. 

He feels Patrick bend over, pressing his chest to David’s back, wrapping him up in warmth, as his thumb traces lightly over David’s hole and his free hand wraps around David’s cock.

The pressure of his thumb increases as it swipes across David’s entrance. “Imagine that’s my tongue, baby.”

David can’t help but let out a groan.  _ God _ , he wants that. 

He feels Patrick’s grip tighten. He’s not going to last. Just the  _ thought _ of Patrick deep between his cheeks is enough to make David come. What he would give to see Patrick’s pink tongue slipping between those soft lips, lapping at such an intimate spot. He can imagine the alternating long strokes of Patrick’s tongue, with smaller licks and soothing kisses, meant to slow David down.  _ God, that sloppy mouth _ . 

Patrick’s breathing is hot and heavy against David’s back. He can feel Patrick’s erection against his hip, and  _ fuck _ , he wants to turn around, strip Patrick down, and do  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ to make him feel good. But Patrick’s holding him firmly in place, his hand working up and down David’s cock while Patrick’s thumb continues to mimic what his tongue would rather be doing. 

David can feel his orgasm building, and building, and he’s powerless to stop it as it slams through his body, his hips bucking forward, his lungs gasping for air as he chokes on an inhale. Ropes of come decorate the floor, but he can’t bring himself to care as he struggles to catch his breath and steady his stance. 


	12. Thirteen

By the time all closing tasks are completed and inventory is restrocked, there’s a scant 35 minutes remaining until Joceyln’s Paint Nite takes over the store. As far as David is concerned, that’s 27 minutes more than necessary, but he’s sure he can put the extra time to good use. 

Patrick puts up no resistance as David tugs him into the backroom, but the moment the curtain is pulled behind them, he crowds into David’s space, pressing him up against the exposed brick, mouthing at his neck and rucking his hands up under David’s sweater. 

It takes a beat for David to catch up. Meanwhile, Patrick has untucked David’s undershirt, and is working on undoing the top button of his pants. His hands deft in their movements, compared to the sloppiness of his mouth. 

David’s hands fumble their way to Patrick’s shoulders, scrabbling for purchase as Patrick moves him where he wants him. There’s adrenaline coursing through his veins as Patrick tugs his pants down to mid-thigh. It’s all happened so quickly that David isn’t even hard yet, a fact which Patrick sets about to remedy, kneeling in front of David, swallowing his soft cock down to the root, and nuzzling his nose in David’s bristly pubic hair. 

David knows Patrick loves this. On the rare occasion that he can get his mouth on David before he’s erect, being able to bring him to full hardness with just his mouth and sweeps of his tongue. The way he fills Patrick’s mouth, eventually becoming too much. The way Patrick’s mouth shifts back as David’s skin grows more taut, and the satisfying popping sound when he pulls off, and the pleased grin on his face. 

Predictably, Patrick pulls off David’s cock, sporting that self-satisfied smirk. He stands back up, swapping out the warmth of his mouth for a strong hand wrapped around David. 

He wastes no time teasing. David burrows his face in the crook of Patrick’s neck, his lips kissing the soft skin in between gasps and moans. 

David feels Patrick’s hand slow, and a gentle kiss on his hairline. 

_ I love you,  _ Patrick murmurs. 

The surge of emotion up through David’s body is matched by a wave of pleasure as Patrick resumes stroking David’s cock at a steady tempo. He...he wants to say it back...but he’s overwhelmed by sensation. 

“Patrick!” he stammers “I - I -”

_ David _ , Patrick sighs against David’s hairline, and it’s filled with so much love that David feels like he’s going to combust. He feels Patrick’s hot breath against his head, Patrick holding him close as David thrusts to meet him on each stroke. 

“Patrick,” David manages to choke out, the tension building in his groin. “Say it...will you say it again?”

He’s not even finished asking before Patrick presses his cheek firmly against David’s temple. 

“I love you, David.”

The force of the conviction in his words sends David over the edge. Patrick’s strong arm wraps around his waist, keeping him upright as aftershocks ripple through David’s body. Once they’ve subsided, David lets Patrick lead him to the couch, where he flops down, boneless. He’s a bit overwhelmed, but he’s gotta find the words. Glassy-eyed, he looks up at Patrick, the soft expression on his face not unlike the time he told Patrick that his gift was not nothing. David takes a deep breath, channeling courage in his heart, and eloquence to his lips. 

“I love you, Patrick.”


	13. Twelve

_ You make me feel right _ , Patrick had said, and he meant it. Over and over, as time passed with David, those moments of dissonance between what Patrick expected to think, or feel, and the actual feeling of  _ yes, this _ became fewer and far between. 

By the time he fell into bed, exhausted from hauling furniture up three flights of stairs, belly full of pizza and the half-beer he finished in between yawns, Patrick’s brain is fuzzed out. David tucks his knees up behind Patrick’s, wraps a hand around and tucks it up under Patrick’s shirt, resting on his belly, and nuzzles against the nape of Patrick’s neck. Patrick feels David press soft kisses to his hairline, and as David’s whispers  _ I love you _ , there’s a moment once again, where Patrick thinks  _ yes, this _ as sleep over takes him. 


	14. Eleven

Every night for the past week Patrick has fallen in the cocoon of David’s embrace, every morning they’ve woken up with their positions reversed, and without fail, Patrick has tried and failed to conceal his massive morning erection each time. Fortunately, David is a  _ very _ generous person, and has, each time, wordlessly slipped beneath the sheets, engulfed Patrick in his hot mouth, and had him gripping the duvet and crying out in a matter of minutes. 

Today, however, David has a plan, and before Patrick can plaintively press his throbbing cock against his ass, David slips out of the bed, and takes a moment in the bathroom to,  _ uh _ , tidy up.

He slides back into bed and snuggles backward until Patrick’s knees bracket his own, they’re chest to back, and Patrick’s sleep-warm hand slides up David’s shirt and tangles in his chest hair. 

He feels Patrick press lazy kisses to the nape of his neck as his erection presses insistently against David’s ass, through two layers of 100% Cotton Hanes. Patrick’s length, lined up perfectly with the crack of his ass, makes David groan. He pulls his boxers down mid-thigh, reaches behind him, and does the same to Patrick, reveling in the skin-to-skin contact. 

Patrick’s hard,  _ so hard _ , against him. He’s thick, and throbbing, and  _ fuck _ , David Rose may not be a morning person, but his body and mind are working in opposition as one wants to sleep, and the other, well, it wants that cock  _ inside  _ him.  _ Now.  _

David growls as Patrick presses insistently against him. He passes back the lube, and creates a bit of space between them. Patrick gets the hint, squirting a generous amount of the product on his fore and middle fingers and slipping them into David in one go. David’s relaxed from a good night’s sleep, and his body readily accepts a third finger. Patrick teases his thumb around the rim, just to give David something to think about, and he’s rewarded with a desperate moan and a thrust backwards. 

“Okay, okay,” Patrick admonishes him, with that teasing lilt he knows David loves. 

David feels Patrick’s cockhead press against his entrance, pausing just a moment before sliding all the way in until their bodies are flush. Patrick’s top hand reaches around, his fingers tangling in David’s chest hair. His mouth finds the nape of David’s neck, his breath hot against David’s skin in between kisses and filthy encouragement. David shifts, adjusts the angle, as Patrick finds his rhythm, now driving relentlessly into David. 

David’s head is swimming in pleasure. The slick slide of Patrick inside him. The tension of his grip in David’s chest hair. The nip on his shoulder. The soft grunts coming from Patrick as he gets closer, only to slow down, nearly still, effectively edging himself to make it last longer. And  _ oh, there’s a thought _ , David files away for later. 

David’s cock is beginning to ache from inattention. He reaches down to wrap a hand around himself, and in a flash, Patrick untangles his fingers from David’s chest hair and swats it away. His hand is still a little slippery from lube, and his strokes create the perfect amount of friction. David is not going to last long, and it doesn’t seem like Patrick is interested in drawing this out unnecessarily. 

With one tender kiss behind his ear, and Patrick urging him with a whisper -  _ come for me, baby _ \- David spills over Patrick’s fist. His whole body stiffens, and twitches, and he can feel how tightly he’s gripping Patrick, significantly reducing the distance Patrick can thrust. David loves this, loves that it’s his body’s orgasmic reaction that will throw his boyfriend over the edge, from the constriction and contraction on his cock. Sure enough, Patrick gasps at the moment his body seizes, and wave after wave of pleasure wash over him as he empties himself in David. 

Once the aftershocks have subsided, Patrick slides out of David. They’ve only got a brief window where it gets messier, but Patrick can’t help but trail a finger down the crack of David’s ass, to his hole where there’s just a tiny bit of come seeping out. David feels Patrick drag his finger through his come, as he lets out a  _ fuck, that’s hot, David _ , the heat in his voice nearly enough to make David’s cock twitch with interest in a second round, but he’s not 20 anymore. 

Maybe after a shower.


	15. Ten

Never in a million years would Patrick have believed he’d willingly have sex in front of a mirror. 

Yet, here he is, in his tiny apartment, transfixed by their reflection as David’s cock drives in and drags out of his body. 

He  _ fucking loves _ how small David makes him feel, makes him look, draped over him from behind. Every thrust in is matched with a ripple through David’s glutes, something he’d never been able to see until they’d picked this mirror last weekend. He can see the blood rush to fill the fingerprints where David had gripped him tight. And Patrick will never be over seeing his cock disappearing and reappearing in David’s grasp. 

Patrick is mesmerized by the expressions that pass across David’s face, a little too quickly for any to be categorized, and when their eyes meet, it’s  _ so much _ that it makes Patrick’s knees nearly buckle. 

It’s only with David’s final hard thrust and arch of his back as he comes that their held gaze breaks, and Patrick’s own orgasm crests. Neither of them move, David spread over his back, kissing between his shoulder blades, and Patrick, still in awe of where they’re joined together, and the way their bodies fit like two puzzle pieces. 

Two very sticky puzzle pieces. 


	16. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey listen.  
> I could have made this a treatise on safe, sane, consensual kink negotiation, but I didn't.  
> Here's where I stand.  
> Rarely should you take sex advice from fic and even if there is something that makes eminent sense, you should still always do your own research.  
> If porn is your thing, if fic is your thing, take _uh_ inspiration, and do your research. 
> 
> Assume that David and Patrick, as two consenting adult males, have thoroughly discussed boundaries and protocols, and that after every scene, water and snacks are readily available, as are loving, validating words and snuggles, and a thorough debrief of each experience.

David slowly scrolls, pausing to let each preview load, waiting patiently for Patrick to make a selection. He hears Patrick inhale sharply at the short clip of one man straddling another while seated on an office chair, and well, that’s no surprise. Patrick’s office supplies and organization kink is well documented. David lingers over the play button, but Patrick just bites his lip and shakes his head. 

A few more pages scroll by before Patrick’s hand shoots out and grabs David’s wrist. David circles the title with his finger on the trackpad. “This one?” he asks, careful not to judge. 

Patrick’s eyes are wide. He can’t tear them off the screen, even to look at David as he nods. 

David taps play, brings the video to fullscreen, and lifts his arm so Patrick can curl up against his chest. With his arm wrapped around Patrick, he can tell Patrick is already aroused, with his breaths faster than normal. He gives him a reassuring squeeze as the scene starts. 

The title of the video is uninspiring. It is, after all, a free porn site. But they’re not here for the creative elements, production value, or plot. No, they’re here because Patrick had summoned up the courage to whisper against David’s lips that he maybe wanted to try something new. With David.  _ Naked _ . 

The timestamp says the video is a little over 17 minutes, and David makes a bet with himself that neither of them last the half of it before needing to touch each other. In fact, he’d be surprised if they both hadn’t come by the time the end titles rolled.

It’s clearly been edited for length. Player A brings Player B to orgasm awfully quickly, but his hand stays on Player B’s cock, stroking slowly as Player B’s whines hit a fever pitch. He writhes as Player A keeps stroking him, and he shouts as his back arches as Player A takes the softening cock into his mouth, suckling, even though Player B has now started begging for him to stop. 

Patrick shifts under David’s arm, the heel of his hand adjusts his crotch. 

Player A keeps working Player B, despite his protestations, knowing they’re all part of the scene. He drags a second orgasm out of him with a scream, and immediately begins stimulating him anew, this time with a power wand. 

They’re less than a quarter the way through the video, but David can’t take it. His fists have been clenched for a solid minute to keep from touching Patrick, but he can’t  _ not _ touch him now. He moves the laptop out of the way, leaving it within Patrick’s sight, and straddles Patrick’s lower legs. 

David’s fingers slid under the hem of Patrick’s boxer briefs. “Can I?” he asks, and Patrick nods.

David slides the garment down to Patrick’s knees. He scoots forward, until his knees are on either side of Patrick’s effectively pinning him in place. His hands place firm pressure on Patrick’s hips. They’ve done mild restraint before - this scene is understood to both of them, and David knows Patrick will safeword out if he needs to. 

In the meantime, David tips forward and swallows as much of Patrick’s cock as he can. It bumps up against the back of his throat and he has to fight to not gag. Pulling every hands-free trick out of his playbook, Patrick is coming down David’s throat in no time. 

Letting go of Patrick’s hips, he uses his hands to gently lay Patrick’s softening cock on his belly.

David kisses Patrick’s thigh, and looks up to find his boyfriend looking dazed and happy.

“So,” David says, keeping eye contact with Patrick as he moves his mouth back towards Patrick’s cock, “you think you want to see  _ how much _ you can take?”

He gently licks the sensitive spot on the underside of the head of Patrick’s cock, and it makes Patrick hiss and his hips cant away from the sensation. “ _ Mmmhmmm _ ,” he moans as his nerve endings try to recover. 

David presses a kiss to the same sensitive spot, a little more gentle than the lick, and Patrick’s body pulls away in reflex. 

“ _ Oh my god, David,”  _ Patrick breathes out on an exhale. 

David soothes his hands on the top of Patrick’s thighs as he crawls to the top of the bed. He lifts his arm, and Patrick tucks himself back in his spot. He’s pliant, and David is warm, and David holds him secure, whispering words of praise and promises of a night spent worshipping Patrick, giving him everything he wants. 


	17. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time David noticed Patrick kind of edging himself?

Patrick’s hand taps frantically, in search of any part of David, signalling he’s close. David slows his hand, bringing it to a stop at the base of Patrick’s cock with a squeeze. 

David looks up at his boyfriend, flushed, sweaty, with his right arm draped over his eyes. His chest heaving as he tries to regulate his breathing. David kisses the crease of his thigh. “That’s two, baby,” he murmurs against Patrick’s skin. “More?”

Patrick lets out a low groan, his left fist gripping the sheets. “Yesss,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

David traces fingertip patterns on Patrick’s chest as he waits. “Okay,” Patrick finally breathes on an exhale. 

David leans over and kisses Patrick softly on the lips before he resumes stroking him, a medium grip, just like Patrick likes. His thumb a little firmer on the underside on the upstroke. He counts in his head, only making it to fourteen before Patrick’s hips start to shift, his spine arch and his breath start to come in gasps. On fifteen, Patrick slaps at David’s bicep, and he dutifully slows down, once against stopping with his grip on the base of Patrick’s cock. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs against Patrick’s belly, his cheek resting on the soft flesh. “Last one?”

He feels Patrick’s belly rise and fall with a deep breath. “No. More.”

“No more?” 

“No. One more time.”

“Okay.” 

When the flush over Patrick’s skin starts to fade, David’s hand resumes movement. 

_ One _

_ Two _

_ Three _

“Oh my god, David,” Patrick chokes out, his voice breaking over the two syllables of David’s name.

_ Four _

_ Five _

_ Six _

_ Seven _

_...Eight? _

Patrick is so close he can barely coordinate movement to let David know. 

“David,” he croaks out weakly. 

“You’re so perfect,” David reassures him, letting go of Patrick’s aching cock so he can crawl up to the head of the bed and kiss his boyfriend properly. Patrick’s lips react lazily, pouting adorably when David draws back and kisses the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. David nudges Patrick’s arm off his face with his own nose, revealing Patrick’s scrunched up eyes. 

“Hey,” David whispers, his lips ghosting Patrick’s brow. Patrick slowly opens his eyes. 

David is so close, it nearly makes Patrick cross-eyed. “Hi, baby.”

Patrick can only groan in response.

David leans in again and captures Patrick’s bottom lip gently between his teeth for a moment before kissing him languidly. Patrick’s mouth parts willingly as David’s tongue teases at the seam. He doesn’t go far, just trails the bottom edge of Patrick’s upper front teeth. Slowly, Patrick perks up, cupping the back of David’s neck with one hand, the other tangling in David’s chest hair almost tight enough to sting. Just enough to make sure David didn’t forget where he was, and who he belonged to, even if it was David who had spent the better part of an hour in control of Patrick’s pleasure. He surges up to meet David, turning the kiss into something more filthy, tongues now doing battle for dominance, and moans that harmonize in the small space of Patrick’s apartment. It’s David who has to pull back, desperately in need of oxygen. 

“Ready to come, baby?” he asks once he’s caught his breath.

Patrick’s eyes are dark. His face serious. He nods. “Please,” he whispers against David’s lips as he kisses David one last time.

David wastes no time in sliding down the bed and positioning himself between Patrick’s bent knees. One hand braces on the crease between Patrick’s thigh and groin, at the ready, the other wraps confidently around his erection. 

_ One _

_ Two _

_ Three _

_ Four _

_ Fi -  _

The moment Patrick starts to come, the thumb of David’s free hand places steady pressure on Patrick’s perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside. He knows he’s in the right spot when Patrick jerks and shouts, his hips canting up into David’s fist, then his body bearing down against the push of David’s thumb. David watches intently as his boyfriend flies over the edge, and into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Patrick’s still squirming under David’s touch, there’s still slow spurts of come erupting from his cock, his shouts have diminished only to be replaced with  _ ah ah ahhhhhh _ as every nerve ending in his body finally releases the tension they’ve held through four rounds of edging. Finally, Patrick sags into the bed. David lays Patrick’s sated cock on his belly, wipes his own hand and Patrick’s belly clean with the towelettes he’d left nearby, and scoops Patrick up his arms. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” David murmurs against Patrick’s hairline as he kisses his temple.

“S’my line,” Patrick slurs, already drifting off to sleep. 


	18. Seven

“Patrick, are you sure?” 

  
“This office chair has lasted through two university degrees, six moves, including one tumble out of the bed of a pick-up truck. I’m sure.”

David moves to straddle Patrick, bracing his hands on his shoulders. He slowly lowers himself onto Patrick’s erection, only pausing once when the office chair squeaks in protest. 


	19. Six

Patrick’s eyes are closed, but his warm hand is on David’s thigh, and there’s a small smile on his lips as David drives them back to Patrick’s apartment after the party. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet, but he’d also just told David that the night might go down as one of the best in his life, so David feels uncharacteristically calm. 

Back at the apartment, there’s nothing amiss as they move through their nightly routine. There’s talk of plans for brunch with Patrick’s parents in the morning and a tour of the store in the afternoon as they settle under the covers. David turns off the light, scoots down onto his pillow, and lifts an arm, creating space for Patrick to curl up against his chest. 

It isn’t until Patrick settles that he lets out a long breath, as though deflating against David’s cotton shirt, that David realizes sleep is not coming soon.

His arm tightens around Patrick’s shoulders, and he bends his arm so he can scratch gently at the short hairs at the nape of Patrick’s neck. “You okay?” he murmurs, kissing the crown of Patrick’s head.

Patrick nods, but it’s accompanied by a big sigh. David loosens his grip when Patrick shifts to prop himself up on his elbow. Even in the dark, his eyes are loud. Loud and so fucking earnest, and David can’t look away.

“I’m sorry, David,” he says simply. 

David feels his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears that will soon threaten to fall. Patrick reaches out and cups his cheek, swipes his thumb over the dampness of David’s cheekbone.

“It was never about you. It was always about me. It was selfish, and I hurt you, and I’m so sorry,” Patrick adds, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to lay bare his faults, and his feelings, and give David the space, and the grace, to react.

Patrick’s hand is still warm on David’s face, and when David tries to look down, look away, Patrick holds him in place. Apparently he’s not done, as he kisses a tear off David’s cheek, and with his lips still ghosting the surface of David’s skin, he whispers “ _ you’re everything, David Rose, _ ” and the dam breaks. There’s no stopping the tears from flowing now. David turns to face Patrick, burrowing his face in Patrick’s shirt, hiding, but this time Patrick lets him. Holds him, and lets him cry it out, doing nothing but rub soothing circles on his back and gently card through his hair. 

When the tears finally subside, David pulls back, lying on his side, eyes cast downward. He can feel Patrick watching him, knows he’s waiting. David looks up, and can’t help but let out a congested groan.  _ Those damn eyes. _

Patrick doesn’t say a word. He gently pushes on David’s shoulder, until David is on his back. 

In one swift move, he comes to straddle David’s hips, but he’s not trying to make it sexy. He’s not looking for friction, but David does find the weight soothing. 

David watches his boyfriend’s fond fucking face as he slides his hands under David’s t-shirt, smoothing them over the planes of David’s chest, sliding the shirt up until David can grab the hem, sit up slightly, and take it off. 

There’s no heat in Patrick’s gaze as he considers the expanse of skin and soft hair in front of him. He places his palms on David’s belly, and slowly rakes his fingers through his chest hair. It’s  _ so fucking tender _ and David is trying so desperately to lean into it, and tamp down the panic threatening to rise up in his throat. 

He feels Patrick shift, leaning forward to brace his forearms on either side of David’s head. 

Patrick’s breath is warm against the sensitive skin behind David’s neck, and it causes goosebumps to ripple down his neck, creating a path that Patrick follows with soft kisses. 

David takes a deep breath, drawing in some confidence in Patrick’s touch, and some of the tension he’d been holding all day finally releases. 

Patrick’s slow kisses make a jump to David’s jawline before ducking back down to his collarbone, where he’s a little ticklish on one side. David twitches when Patrick’s barely-there stubble scrapes against a delicate patch, and it makes Patrick laugh into the hollow of David’s neck. 

Patrick doesn’t seem to have any destination in mind as he continues lavishing attention on David, and whether it be from the three-orgasm morning they had, the sheer exhaustion of the day, or some combination of both, neither of their bodies are reacting, so there’s no urgency.

This hasn’t happened much. This  _ loving adoration _ . They’re usually both eager to fuck each other senseless, but this is  _ nice. _

Eventually, Patrick’s mouth slows. It is, after all, well past 1 am, and the alarm is set for a wake up call at an ungodly hour. 

David watches as Patrick sits up straight and peels his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. He dismounts David and curls up against his side, nudging with his nose until David’s arm raises again, and Patrick can return to his original position. 

David squeezes Patrick tight. “I love you,” he whispers into Patrick’s hairline, and he feels Patrick’s weight settle against his chest. 

Patrick’s head turns so he can kiss David’s chest. “I love you, too,” he replies.  _ So fucking easy _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not have happened without DesignatedGrape. ❤️


	20. Five

The trip down from Rattlesnake Point takes at least three times as long as the hike up, mostly because every 50 steps or so, David has to stop and catch the light on the four gold rings, or Patrick has to stop and pull David in for a kiss and whisper  _ husband _ against his lips. 

They come to a fork in the path that neither had noticed on the way up. David’s intuition says to hang right, but Patrick tugs him to the left. And since Patrick is so rarely wrong about much of anything not dependent on aesthetics, David goes willingly.

The trail dwindles a few metres from the path, as social trails have a tendency to do. David stops where the path has faded, his hands on his hips, looking around. Patrick ducks behind a small stand of trees. “Hey, David?” he calls out.

“Where are you? I can’t see you?” David replies, his anxiety rising.

Patrick steps back out into view. “Perfect.” He grabs David’s hand and pulls him into the longer grass to where he’d been hidden from view. Patrick shucks his backpack, and helps David do the same. 

Sufficiently tucked away from anyone who might happen to be on trail, Patrick captures David’s lips in a bruising kiss. “Front pocket, black bag,” he pants against David’s lips. 

David reaches into the front pocket, pulling out a pack of wet wipes, some tissue, a nitrile glove and a travel size lube. He chokes out a laugh. “Pretty sure of yourself, eh?” 

“Pull your pants down, David,” he responds, unzipping his own and letting them pool around his ankles. 

David wastes no time in handing over the supplies, lowering his pants to around his knees, and finding a tree on which to brace one hand. 

Fifteen minutes later, they’re getting ready to head back down the trail, smiles a little wider than fifteen minutes before. David, in particular, sporting a grin he can’t repress. 

“So, let me get this straight. You packed two big backpacks full of cheese, AND condoms and lube, on the _off-chance_ that I was down for a trail-fuck, and STILL no first aid kit?”

Patrick huffed a laugh at his _fiancé_ , who was folding the picnic blanket back up. “Well, David, I knew that hiking back down with come leaking down your leg would be - “

_ “Incorrect!” _

“Mmhmm. And besides, of all the sounds you were making, not _one_ sounded like a complaint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the end reads familiar, it's because it's taken directly from my [ Season Five vignettes ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986183/chapters/57696802), Chapter Nine to be specific.


	21. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is what happens when you spend the late afternoon watching Matt Barber and his sister sing Christmas songs, and then their parents come on, and their dad is a fucking _immunologist_ and you get all up in your feels about family and you drink an extra beer while you make pizza, and then you watch SC and you feel all emo and then Mr Potato says "I'll put away your laundry while you write" because he knows you're not ahead of the game, and you just...write tender and quick sexy time, post-Cabaret. 
> 
> Anyway. Time to hydrate. Pack lunches. Go to bed. Adult. You know.

The ride back to Patrick’s apartment is quiet, but not tense. Same with the climb up the three flights of stairs. The jangle of keys in the lock is loud, as Patrick opens the door, and they step across the threshold. 

Patrick turns to face David in the entryway. “I’m sorry that didn’t go as you planned,” he said softly. 

David crowded him up against the door, taking the care to turn the deadbolt lock. “I don’t fucking care,” he said, his voice low, and muffled against Patrick’s neck.

David gives Patrick the space to leave what he needs to at the door, and then all but shepherds him to the bed. He wastes no time in pulling down Patrick’s jeans, and undoing his own pants, letting them fall to the ground. Grabbing the lube from the bedside table, he maneuvers them both in front of the mirror.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror, lately?” David asks, his firm grip directing Patrick’s gaze towards the reflective surface. 

Patrick looks at the mirror, seeing his smudged eyeliner and faded show make-up in the low light. 

“Have you  _ seen _ how fucking  _ hot  _ you are?” David asks, his hand running possessively down Patrick’s chest, to his cock, jutting proud in front of them both.

Patrick groans. He’s exhausted, but exhilarated. 

David opens the lube with his free hand, and somehow manages to coat his cock, and the inside of Patrick’s thighs and perineum with it. 

“I know you’re tired, baby, but let me make you feel good,” he murmurs against the nape of Patrick’s neck. 

Patrick’s head tips backwards as David grips him firmly from behind, and thrusts between his thighs. He feels one of David’s strong hands on his hip as David slides in between the tight grip of his tight muscles, and the other wraps confidently around Patrick’s erection. 

“Watch, baby,” David whispers, nudging Patrick’s neck to face forward, looking at the them, together, in the mirror. 

The sight drives Patrick wild. The surreality of the makeup on his face. His own full-frontal nudity. The head of David’s cock slipping in and out between his thighs.  _ Holy fuck _ .

He watches, mesmerized, only occasionally catching glimpses of himself in the mirror as his face contorts in wonder, and pleasure. 

It doesn’t take long at all before he’s coming over David’s fist, and David is coming between his legs, making quite the mess. Well, good thing he needed a shower before bed anyway. 


	22. Three

They watch Johnny and Moira’s SUV until it is out of sight. Final group hugs, and a gathering of garment bags, and David and Patrick are off to finally catch a few hours rest.

Walking to the car, their fingers interlaced, David can’t help but tease. “So, what’s the first thing you want to do as a married man?” 

Patrick’s answer sends anticipatory shivers down his spine. 

“My husband.”

///

Patrick’s apartment is exactly as they had left it that afternoon. Nothing had changed, and yet, somehow, everything had changed. David’s side of the bed was now, officially, legally, _David’s side of the bed_. The ceramic dish where David deposited his rings every night would now hold his wedding band, and first thing Monday morning, the lease will be amended to include his name. 

It’s a bit _surreal_. 

Ok, the fact that the man crawling naked towards him on the bed is his _husband_ is a _lot_ surreal.

David welcomes Patrick on top of him with open arms. Patrick is warm against him. David squeezes tight as Patrick burrows his face in David’s neck. He peppers kisses along David’s neck, one hand gripping David’s locks, thumb and forefinger of the other pinching David’s nipple, and the sensory overload makes David’s back arch, momentarily breaking contact from where their hips had been flush. Patrick readjusts, shifting to grind his erection against David’s hip, and David can’t help but let out a groan. 

“Kiss me,” he pleads, desperate for the softness of his husband’s lips.

Patrick obliges, slowing the slide of his body against David’s, focusing rather on a languid kiss. David’s lips part, and Patrick’s tongue seizes the opportunity to lick at the seam of David’s mouth, swiping up on the bow of his upper lip, and tangling briefly with the tip of David’s tongue. Time slows, and it’s perfect. But also, the bone-deep exhaustion of the night before is soon to catch up with them, and David is impatient. 

Without breaking the kiss, David fumbles in the nightstand for the pump bottle of lube, handing it to Patrick. Patrick pulls back, a small smile on his lips, as he scoots back and settles between David’s legs. One hand soothes the inside of David’s thigh, as the other, with well-lubed digits works David open, readying him to receive his husband for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the beginning of this chapter sounds familiar, it's because it's (practically) copied and pasted from the last chapter of my [ Season Six vignettes ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204829/chapters/58306813).


	23. Two

Patrick takes a swig of his beer and swallows it with a grimace. It’s...not good. It doesn’t help that he’s been nursing the same bottle for the last thirty minutes, caught up in running some numbers in his head, and the beer has gone tepid. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t notice the tall man, with dark hair and glasses sitting at the opposite end of the bar, watching him intently, sipping a cosmo on the rocks. 

It’s not until the bartender slides a fresh pint glass towards him that Patrick looks up. 

“S’from that guy,” the bartender shrugs, as though he’s seen this play a thousand times before.

At least.

Patrick looks at the man, the edges of his mouth turning up in a small smile. He raises the glass as if to say cheers, and takes a sip. Ah, it’s the IPA they have on tap. What he should have chosen to begin with, rather than the rancid bottled beer on special. This man must have good taste. 

The man raises a brow, and responds with a smirk as the tip of his tongue traces the edge of his cocktail glass and he takes a sip. 

Patrick feels flush. He’s never really been in this position before. And he’s not really sure what comes next. Or, if anything  _ should _ come next. Now he’s in his head for a different reason. 

The man stands, and with few strides, closes the distance between them. 

“Hi.”

“Hi. Thanks for the beer.”

The man smirks. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you new here? We don’t get many that...look like  _ you _ around here.” Patrick gestures at the man’s outfit. Leather jacket, black jeans with artful rips at the knee. Patrick’s type, clearly, if his husband is any indication.  _ Oh right _ . He fiddles nervously with his wedding ring.

“Married?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How long?”

“Six weeks tomorrow.”

“Oh, so the ink is barely dry on the certificate, eh?”

Patrick chokes on his beer. “No, uh, well…” He scrubs his hand nervously at the back of his head. 

“Listen, I don’t like to waste time. Do you want to get out of here?” 

“Uh, I…”

“Yeah, I know you’re married. He’ll never know unless you tell him.”

Patrick looks around the bar. There’s no one really he recognizes. No one to report back. 

“Okay,” he decides, slamming back the rest of the liquid courage in front of him. “Let’s go.”

They don’t make it twenty paces past the door of the bar before the man pulls Patrick in between two buildings and presses him up against the brick wall. He leans into Patrick, connecting them hip to chest, and Patrick can feel the man is already hard. He can’t help but let out a little whine. 

The man kisses him. His hand grips the back of Patrick's head, and the kiss is filthy, and hot, and he does that little thing that Patrick likes with his tongue and, oh god his brain is just full of static and -

“Oh my god, David,” he groans.

The kissing stops. David pulls back, but still close enough that he’s a little cross-eyed. 

“Is the scene over, honey?” he asks quietly, his thumb now gently stroking Patrick's hairline.

Patrick realizes what he said, and he thunks his head against the wall behind him with a chuckle. “Fuck, David.”

David slips from Patrick’s grip, adjusting himself in his tight jeans. “I mean, yes, ideally. But not here?”

//

“Um, excuse me, Professor Brewer?”

The door to Patrick’s office opens, and a tall figure, dressed almost entirely in black steps in.

Patrick recognizes the man from his evening class.  _ Intro to Business Accounting _ . He’d stuck out like a sore thumb from the beginning, between his attire and his attitude. And Patrick would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to having gotten himself off in the shower on a number of occasions thinking of the man on his knees behind the podium in the lecture theatre. He’s  _ stunning _ . A rare kind of beauty that just does not exist anywhere in Elmdale Township.

The man looks contrite.

“Uh, so, I know that the final exam is coming up next week, but I’ve been looking at my terms marks and in order to get the B I need, I would have to score 94% on the final, and I know that’s not possible - “

“What do you want?” Patrick cuts him off tersely. He really doesn’t have time for this sort of grovelling. 

“Professor Brewer, I’d do... _ anything _ for that 94%,” the man replies, his voice a half-octave lower. It makes Patrick’s cock twitch in his poly blend dress pants. 

Patrick raises a brow. “Anything?”

“ _ Any _ thing,” the man emphasizes.

"Would you..." 

The man steps closer, close enough to perch on the edge of Patrick's desk. 

“Would you... _ study _ ?” Patrick asks, trying hard to school his expression. 

The man lets out a scoff. But his lips are fighting a smile. All that effort fighting a smile means a guffaw manages to escape. 

Patrick tries to salvage the scene. “I mean, would you... _ suck my dick _ ?” he tries again, trying so hard to keep his voice sultry and free from the giggles that are threatening to escape. It’s too late. There’s tears streaming down David’s face as he doubles over with laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, now that you've read that, please go read [ As long as there are stars above you ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236399), a fic gifted to me today by DesignatedGrape, who is not only a seemingly effortlessly good writer, but also a stellar human specimen.


	24. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!
> 
> The end of this advent fic marks ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND Poutini works written into existence in the Schitt's Creek universe. If you've enjoyed the ride, the greatest gift is to let me know you were here.

It’s getting late. “It’s a Wonderful Life” has ended, everyone’s taster’s glass has been drained of cognac, and the fatigue of the long day is settling in. Patrick yawns, reaching his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. David takes his cue. “Time for bed, honey?”

Patrick nods, and stands, extending his hand to David. 

“Wait!”

Marci claps her hands on her thighs and stands. 

“Time for stockings!”

David looks to Patrick, who shrugs, before sitting back down, thigh to thigh with his husband. “Brewer family tradition.” 

Four stockings are arranged on the coffee table. One for Marci and Clint, from David and Patrick. One  _ for _ David and Patrick, from Marci and Clint. And one from David to Patrick and vice-versa. 

Even though it’s late, they joyfully pull out the contents of each stocking, delighting in the simplicity of perfect gifts that fit within. The socks are empty, or so it seems, when Patrick tips his stocking upside down, one last item falling to the floor.

A seemingly innocuous piece of hardware falls to the floor with a loud THUD. 

Marci picks it up. “What’s this?” she asks, turning it over in her hand.

Years of improv and debate club have prepared Patrick for this moment. “It’s a mounting bracket for a porch swing,” he responds without missing a beat. 

He leans over and pecks David on the check. “Thanks, honey.”

David hums contentedly with the soft press of his husband’s lips, knowing that in that split second Patrick fully calculated the cost of the necessity of following through with the installation of a porch swing and weighed it against the truth - that the bracket was for a swing of a different sort. In the bedroom. 

Marci nods with a smile. “That will be downright lovely in the summer! We’ll have to make sure we schedule a visit to help break it in, won’t we, Clint?”

Patrick chokes on his water, and David pats him on the back until his breathing returns to normal. Patrick coughing wakes up Clint, who has fallen asleep tucked into the corner of the loveseat. He looks around blearily. “Huh?”

“I think that’s our cue,” Marcy says softly. “Breakfast at 10?”

“Mmmhmm,” David agrees, pulling Patrick to stand, and guiding him towards the stairs with a hand on his lower back. 

///

David sets down his sketchbook when Patrick steps out of the ensuite bathroom and into the bedroom. The sight of his husband, warm and pink from the shower, his hair a mess of partially towel-dried curls, combined with the scent of the amber and mandarin body wash that follows him, will never not take David’s breath away. If his in-laws weren’t in the same house, he would strip that towel off Patrick’s waist so damn fast, bend him over the footboard and rim him until he was sobbing and begging for the sweet relief of David’s cock driving into him. 

_ Speaking of rimming… _

“I guess it’s a good thing I took this out of your stocking, eh?” David asks, pulling a small, festively labeled bottle of lube out of the bedside table and tossing it to Patrick. He smirks, waiting for Patrick to read the product name. 

“Lickit-dee-Slit Gingerbread flavoured Anal Lubricant,” Patrick reads aloud, his voice quieting with each word. “David!” 

Shower pink turns to flushed, embarrassed pink. 

“I don’t know what’s worse, honey. Your parents knowing that you like a little spice when you eat me out, or knowing that I like my husband’s ass to taste like a Christmas cookie when I lay him out and make him writhe with just my tongue.”

Patrick covers his face with a groan, but the towel hides nothing, and David can see his husband’s growing erection. 

He sits up straighter against the headboard, and holds up an arm. “C’mere. Have a look at this.”

Patrick tucks himself under David’s arm, adjusting his inconveniently timed erection once settled. 

David opens his sketchbook to the drawings he worked on while Patrick was in the shower. 

He waits while Patrick considers the page. It’s clearly the rear of their house. The view of the porch, from front and side. With a swing. As Patrick’s finger traces the lines on the paper, noting the added detail in the garden - Patrick’s planned passion project for the following summer, David presses a kiss to Patrick’s damp temple. 

“Plausibility, honey,” he says softly. “You know your mom is going to ask about the porch swing tomorrow.”

Patrick nods. “It’s...David, it’s beautiful.”

David agrees. “Yeah, kinda played myself there a bit. Might actually have to make this happen now.” He knows Patrick is seeing it the same way. Warm summer evenings spent on the swing, the sky full of spectacular red streaks as the sun sets in front of them. A glass of wine, a light summer throw draped over their legs as the air cools. Or maybe, hiding from the sun on a hot, summery afternoon with cool lemonade, music drifting out into the yard as Patrick digs in the dirt and attends to his harvest. Even the aesthetic of the first snowfall lining the red wood of the swing, rendering it useless, but beautiful. Right, the swing is now red.  _ Fuck _ . 

David’s increasingly expensive reverie is broken when Patrick nuzzles into his neck, kissing below his ear. “Baby,” he murmurs against David’s skin, pressing his groin against David’s hip. 

“Honey, your parents…”

David’s protestations are half-hearted at best, and he doesn’t resist when Patrick maneuvers to lie half on top of him, the edge of Patrick’s hip now resting against David’s growing erection. David grabs Patrick’s ass, holding their bodies tight against each other as David grinds up into the pressure. 

“Oh god, David,” Patrick groans, burrowing his face in David’s neck and muffling the rest of the low moan that escapes. 

Desperate to kiss his husband, David nudges Patrick out of the crook of his neck. Patrick kisses like a man starved. Like they hadn’t spent the better part of the morning in bed doing pretty much exactly this, not fourteen hours prior. Or, really, like even nearly three years into the relationship, how they take every opportunity they can to kiss each other.  _ Hello, goodbye, here’s your tea, thanks for bringing me the toilet paper, can you empty the garbage please. _

David lets out a whimper when Patrick pulls back to catch his breath. Patrick’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and he’s still slowly grinding against David’s body. 

“What do you want, honey?” David asks softly. After all, it  _ is _ Patrick’s parents who are downstairs. And while Patrick has come to terms with the fact that his parents know he is likely having sex with his partner, he is not anxious to confirm any hypothesis they may have, by sound, sight, or byproduct in the garbage bin. 

The cool air hits David’s skin when Patrick slides off the bed, and it makes David tuck his knees close to his chest. Patrick undoes the towel around his waist, places it carefully on his side of the bed, grabs the gingerbread lube off the nightstand, and flops on his stomach. He turns to face David, offering up the lube. “Please, David?”

David straightens his legs, and rolls onto his side, taking the lube from his husband. He kisses the splatter of freckles on Patrick’s shoulder. “You’ll have to be quiet, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

Patrick crosses his arms on the pillow in front of him and buries his face in the space it creates. David pets the crown of his head when he nods and spreads his legs. 

David runs a hand down Patrick’s back, his fingers walking down the crack of his ass, as he sets up between Patrick’s legs. 

He doesn’t waste any time. They’re both exhausted from working retail in the holiday season, but it’s also already past 11 pm, and it’s been a long day. 

David opens the lube, and the smell of the ginger, cinnamon, allspice and brown sugar fills the room. He spreads Patrick’s cheeks, lets a small amount of the cool liquid land right on target, and recaps the lube before tossing it aside.

With a hand on each cheek pulling them apart, he leans in and licks experimentally up from Patrick’s perineum over his hole. Patrick lets out a tiny gasp but it’s barely audible from where he’s face down into the pillow.  _ Not bad _ , David thinks, both about the taste and his husband’s ability to keep the volume down. 

He dives back in, alternating teasing Patrick’s sensitive rim with the tip of his tongue with flat presses right across his hole. It doesn’t take very many passes of his tongue before Patrick is arching up into David’s mouth, pressing his erection into the bed. David can barely hear the mewling sounds being absorbed by the pillow at the head of the bed, but he knows Patrick’s desperation is increasing. He spears his tongue into his husband and the gasp from above is the loudest sound Patrick has made tonight. 

Patrick’s hands reach back, relieving David’s. “Please,” he whispers hoarsely.

David grabs the regular lube. The one with the horny goatweed. Not that Patrick needs any sort of supplementation here, but the way it increases blood flow to the sensitive flesh of anal tissue drives Patrick wild in a way David can’t resist. He coats two fingers with a generous amount, and slips his fingers into Patrick’s ass. He’s already  _ so relaxed _ , David thinks he could just slide his dick right in without much prep. But the prep is part of the fun, so he works the two fingers in and out for a couple minutes before adding a third and doing the same. When David’s own erection is throbbing from inattention, he taps Patrick’s hands, and encourages him to roll over. David pops into the bathroom and does a quick Listerine rinse before heading back to the bed. 

Patrick’s face is imprinted with lines from the pillow. His curls have dried, and his eyes have softened back to their regularly scheduled heart eyes. 

David folds him in half and captures his lips in a kiss as he slowly presses inside. It’s slick, and there’s no resistance, as he settles in with his pelvis flush against the back of Patrick’s thighs. 

David pulls out slowly, and thrusts back in, hard, but slow. He controls the movement so as to not create any telltale furniture noise, keeping the pace steady, and the angle where he knows it needs to be to graze Patrick’s prostate. When David can feel his own orgasm approach, he reaches between them and starts stroking Patrick in time with his thrusts. This is the true test - can Patrick not shout and hiss and gasp when he comes? 

Turns out high quality Canadian goose down pillows work quite well for minimizing volume, as Patrick pulls the pillow over his face right before his orgasm. David follows him over the edge moments later, throwing his head back with a single, choked off gasp as Patrick’s ass clenches around him. He lets Patrick’s legs drop down to the bed, and pulls out slowly, inhaling sharply at the brief overstimulation. David kisses Patrick’s knee and pads to the bathroom to wash up before Patrick has his turn. 

All clean, Patrick tucks up behind David, bracketing their knees, with an arm wrapped solidly around David’s chest, his lips tenderly kissing the nape of David’s neck as they both drop into sleep. 

///

In the morning, Marci makes blueberry muffins, egg casserole and chocolate chip pancakes. Clint mans the coffee maker and kettle, keeping everyone well caffeinated. Predictably, Marci asks about the porch swing, and David pulls out his sketchbook to show her the drawings he had made in haste the night before. Conversation is light and perfect, and for the third year in a row, David thinks this is the best Christmas he’s ever had. 

After breakfast, they open presents. David and Patrick had committed to small, token gifts for each other, in favour of saving money for their honeymoon. Marci and Clint had insisted they needed nothing, and though David insists the basket of Apothecary goods is not a big deal, Marci’s misty eyes assure him it is. 

David and Patrick argue briefly with Patrick’s parents over the acceptability of the cheque tucked inside the card signed ‘Mom and Dad Brewer’, but they insist it’s money they had saved anyway, ostensibly for Patrick’s ill-fated wedding to Rachel, and that they can’t take it with them. 

David is a little overwhelmed at the gesture, and promises to put it to good use. To which Marci quips “I hope you don’t!” and they dissolve into laughter. 

The last gifts to be exchanged carry on a Brewer family tradition, started by Marci and Clint long before Patrick was born. Each year, they would gift each other an ornament - sometimes funny, sometimes sentimental - but always carefully selected. Unpacking each ornament and reliving the memories was nearly an archeological dig after forty some odd years of marriage, and Marci and Clint were so pleased that Patrick had initiated the same tradition with David, starting with their first Christmas two years ago, when neither of them even had a tree of their own to decorate. 

Patrick hands David a small box. His eyes sparkle in anticipation as David carefully unwraps it, sets the paper aside, and cracks open the lid. When light hits the contents, David gasps and brings a hand up to his mouth. Tears form in the corner of his eyes. Delicately, he pulls out a stained glass ornament consisting of six figures - easily recognizable based on colour palette alone - as the Rose family, plus Patrick and Stevie. He stands to put it on the tree, kissing Patrick sweetly in thanks, not quite able to form words. He finds a place where it aesthetically matches, and is easily visible, next to the miniature replica of the Apothecary Patrick had gifted him the year prior.

David snags the last box under the tree, and hands it to Patrick. He bites his lip as Patrick lifts the lid of the simple box, and pulls out the paw-shaped trinket. Patrick looks up at David, confusion in his eyes. “There’s something else in the box, honey,” David prods gently. 

Patrick pulls out a round metal tag.  _ Olive Rose-Brewer, DOB 10/31/2018 _ inscribed on one side, their address and phone numbers on the other. 

Patrick clenches the tag tight in his hand as he jumps up and wraps his arms around David, burying his face in David’s sweater. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asks in a small voice. David nods, knowing Patrick can feel his answer. He rubs his hands soothingly up and down Patrick’s back. “The shelter called me the week the puppies were born. The mother dog had been found in the ditch, a little skinny, but no worse for wear, and no one came forward to claim her.” David flips through his phone to find a picture. “She’s a mutt, but her pups look just like her, and she looks just like - “

“ _ Bella _ ,” Marci whispers, glancing over David’s shoulder. 

Patrick steps back from David’s embrace far enough to see the picture. His face immediately crumples. David pulls him back in and holds him tight. When the tears slow, they walk to the tree together, where Patrick hangs the paw print ornament next to last year’s gift from David - a pewter blue jay - representing not only Patrick’s favourite sportsball team, but also a symbol of intelligence, determination and curiosity. 

David takes a moment to rearrange the first gifted ornament to face front - a wooden circle, pyrographed with words that changed their life twice.  _ In your heart I see the start of every night and every day. _

The rest of Christmas day with the Brewers passes in a bit of a blur, between FaceTime calls with Moira, Johnny and Alexis, a mid-afternoon nap, and a home-cooked dinner that renders them all immobile with fully bellies. David and Patrick stay up late into the night, making the most of their time with Patrick’s parents who need to leave bright and early on Boxing Day.

///

The moment Marci and Clint’s car backs safely out of the driveway, David crowds Patrick up against the wall, pinning him in place with his hands on his shoulders, and his hips flush against Patrick’s groin. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, honey. You’re gonna make yourself scarce for a couple of hours - maybe go make sure the seasonal clearance display is ready at the store - while Ronnie comes over and installs the swing in the bedroom.”

“Ronnie?” Patrick squeaks out.

“Who do you think helped me pick out the swing? Someone had to figure out whether the beam could hold weight.”

“But...Ronnie?!”

“My sweet husband, how happy you make me is what keeps you in her good graces.” David releases Patrick from his grip. “Now, go.”

///

David knows that Patrick will fall into an easy rhythm of distraction once he’s at the store. With the right playlist, the motivation to organize, and an unfailing desire to please David, he’s sure that the time will pass quickly while Ronnie installs the brackets and helps David string up the sex swing for the inaugural scene.

It’s therefore no surprise that Patrick returns to the house a little later than anticipated. David is waiting, patiently, sipping on a whiskey neat, his feet up on the coffee table.

“Hi, honey,” he calls out cheerfully, as Patrick sheds his coat and boots in the entryway.

Patrick’s skin is flush from the cold, and there’s a chill on his lips as he leans down to kiss David. The kiss is chaste and too short, and David sits up straighter trying to chase Patrick’s lips as he pulls away. 

He knows Patrick knows he’s being watched. And he knows Patrick knows what the answer is, when he turns, cocks an eyebrow at David and asks “are you coming, or what?”

David scrambles to set his whiskey glass down safely, and follow his husband up the stairs. He can’t help but swat at his ass as they reach the top of the stairs, and it makes Patrick laugh, loud and bright. 

The laughter stops, however, when he sees the contraption assembled partially above the bed. There’s cables, and stirrups, and a platform large enough to hold both of them. There’s what looks like a pulley system and a lever to control angle and a small tote hanging underneath containing nitrile gloves, wipes, and their favourite lube. 

“Woooooow,” Patrick breathes out, as David uses the pulleys to lower the platform to a useable height. 

“David bites his lower lip between his teeth. “Mmmhmm. You like?”

Patrick answers with a kiss. Bruising, nipping, with his hands working David’s sweater over his head as Patrick backs him towards the bed. David fumbles to pull his pants off, and climbs onto the platform, sitting on the edge. Patrick quickly sheds his own clothes and positions himself between David’s legs. 

David feels Patrick’s warm hands on his shoulders as he pushes him to lay flat. The swing sways slightly with the force, and Patrick stills it with his hands on David’s knees.

There’s heat in Patrick’s eyes as he leans in and takes David’s half-hard cock into his mouth. He remains still, but uses his hands to gently rock the swing back and forth as David’s erection fills, eventually becoming too much for Patrick to hold in his mouth. He bobs up and down a few times for good measure before pulling back and reaching for the lube. 

David maneuvers his heels into the upper stirrups, and scoots himself until his ass is at the very edge of the platform. He’s completely exposed and vulnerable for Patrick and it makes him shiver with excitement. 

Patrick coats three fingers with lube, slipping one, two and then three inside David, working him open with one hand while the other hand lazily keeps him hard. David’s writhing causes some motion with the swing, changing the angle and the depth to which Patrick’s fingers can reach.

The effect is only amplified when Patrick slips his cock inside David. With the assist of the stirrups, Patrick’s hands are free to grip the side of the platform and control the swing. Patrick barely has to move, with inertia doing at least half of the work for him. He pauses after a few thrusts, adjusting the tilt of the platform with an easy tug on a rope, and it allows him to thrust further up into David, against the inner wall where David’s prostate sits. 

David knows he is close, and he can tell Patrick is, too. He props himself up with one arm, using the other to match the timing of the swing with strokes on his own erection. He wants to watch Patrick come. See his beautiful eyes scrunch shut, his mouth drop into an  _ O _ as waves of pleasure wash over him, punching out gasps and heaves.

Patrick comes with a shout, and isn’t quick enough to halt the movement of the swing, causing a bit of curious over-stimulation. David doesn’t mind the extra thrusts as they match the last two strokes needed to throw him over the edge, coming all over his own stomach. 

With a laugh, Patrick finally stills the swing. Still connected, David slips his feet out of the stirrups, and sits up. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, kissing the bridge of Patrick’s sweaty nose. 

Patrick kisses him sweetly. Their foreheads tip together, as they slowly catch their breath.

///

Clean-up is expeditious. David knows it was worth investing in a durable and waterproof product, and the minimal amount of time it takes to clean and put away the swing is proof positive. He curls up against Patrick’s side under the covers, reaching a hand up and around to the back of Patrick’s head, where he can gently pet the soft hairs at the nape of Patrick’s neck. 

“Merry Christmas, David Rose,” Patrick whispers, leaning into the touch.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick,” David replies softly. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic contains callbacks to two other fics.  
> If the beginning sounds familiar, perhaps it's because you read my Frozen Over Submission [ Hung with Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659387/chapters/67682762).  
> Further, credit for Christmas breakfast and the tradition of the ornaments goes to DesignatedGrape, who gifted me with [ As long as there are stars above you ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236399)yesterday. If you haven't read it, you really, really, really should.
> 
> Thanks to JulyWonder for the suggestion of the inclusion of a sex swing back in September. And for setting a calendar reminder so we wouldn't forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cheesecurdsgravyandfries).


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